The Courier of Marseilles
by Lord Dreadnault
Summary: (MOST RECENT UPDATE-Oct 5) The Hardys and Nancy are on the trail of a WWII spy cache somewhere in France, can they find it before the enemy does?
1. Chapter One

The Courier of Marseilles

  
  


by:

  
  


Lord Dreadnault

  
  


Published simultaneously at www.hardydetectiveagency.com and www.fanfiction.net

  
  


Official Disclaimer:

The author recognizes that the Hardy Boys, Nancy Drew and their respective associates belong to Simon & Schuster as well as the Stratemeyer Syndicate/Foundation. The author claims copyright to his original characters which include but are not limited to, Andrew S. Fairchild and Elayne Fairchild. The use of these characters by other authors is permissible, however, abuse will not be tolerated. The author also claims copyright to the plot of the following story. He will not tolerate plagiarism. The author is making no material profit from the following fan fiction. The author may be reached at the following e-mail address. dreadnault@netscape.net 

  
  


Author's Note: Here's another fan fiction story from me! I sincerely hope you enjoy this one. In essence this story is a sequel to The Fairchild Affair, however, it's not required that you have read the story despite the fact that there are some things that will seem a little clearer to you if you have read it. Enjoy! - Lord Dreadnault

  
  


Chapter One: Assassination at the Carnival

  
  


Nancy, Ned, Bess, and George strolled through a carnival in Chicago laughing and joking. It was the Fourth of July and they had come to Chicago for all the special events celebrating the holiday this year. After having a picnic dinner in one of the parks they had decided to spend the evening at the carnival. 

  
  


"That roller coaster was great!" George said in a cheerful voice.

  
  


Bess groaned, "Just because you like roller coasters doesn't mean you have to tease me about not liking them."

  
  


"Then why did you go on it?" Nancy asked.

  
  


"I don't know," Bess lamented.

  
  


"I bet it had something to do with that cute guy standing in front of us in the line," Ned whispered conspiratorially.

  
  


George laughed. "If you're so sick Bess, why don't we go on the merry-go-round next. Maybe that'll calm your stomach."

  
  


"If there's a cute guy on it . . ." Bess said.

  
  


Everyone chuckled and they began to walk through the noisy crowd towards the rotating lights of the slowly rotating merry-go-round. "Hey Nancy," Ned said, "isn't that Brenda Carlton over there? Don't you know her?"

  
  


Nancy took a look and groaned. "Let's get out of here before she spots us!"

  
  


"Too late," George commented, "she's spotted us."

  
  


Brenda made her way through the crowds and joined them. "Nancy! I've been meaning to talk to you, but I haven't had the chance. Weren't you involved in the Fairchild kidnapping?"

  
  


"Look Brenda," Nancy said firmly, "I just happened to be in town. That's it."

  
  


Brenda pouted unhappily. "You're just trying to keep me from a good investigative story."

  
  


"Were you involved with the kidnapping?" Ned asked.

  
  


"I was simply in Denver at the time of the kidnapping." Nancy said again this time in a more emotional voice. Ned's eyes hardened. He could tell that she was keeping something from him and he didn't like it. He refused to understand. Oh Ned, Nancy thought, I would share if I could. Why won't you understand?"

  
  


Ned reading Nancy's hurt look quickly softened up. "I won't bother you about it." I'll bug you later though, he decided. When no one is around and we can have some privacy.

  
  


Nancy smiled and Brenda looked more suspicious. "I'll stay with you anyway, we might run into something interesting."

  
  


Nancy shook her head and sighed as they continued towards the square. 

  
  


"Maybe we should get something to eat." Bess suggested.

  
  


"Always hungry, aren't you?" George commented.

  
  


"I've been on a diet!" Bess declared. "I'm famished." 

  
  


Abruptly the merry attitude of the crowd was ruined as a woman's scream pierced the air. "IT'S A DEAD WOMAN!!!"

  
  


Everyone's heads turned towards where the scream had come from. Nancy strained to see over the crowd. The scream had come from the darkened boardwalk. It was reached by a staircase that descended from the square the merry-go-round sat in. 'No Entrance' signs blocked the staircase. The woman who had screamed was standing right next to the signs and pointing down towards the boardwalk..

  
  


Nancy quickly made her way through the crowd towards the blocked off staircase. Ned, Bess, George, and Brenda followed her weaving through the excited crowd. Security guards and police were already converging on the scene. They were pressing back the hordes of people trying to catch a glimpse of the body. In the distance sirens could be heard.

  
  


Nancy soon reached the No Entrance sign at the head of the staircase, but a burly security guard blocked her. "Sorry ma'am, no one allowed on the crime scene."

  
  


Nancy opened her purse and pulled out her wallet. She opened it and showed the guard the FBI identification card the Network had provided her when she had joined. The guard stepped aside and Nancy hurried down the staircase noting absently that the guard had stopped her friends and Brenda from following her down.

  
  


She stepped up to the corpse and showed the officers her ID. "What happened?" Nancy asked.

  
  


"We're not exactly sure ma'am." the one officer replied. "Looks like she was stabbed with this knife." he said as he pointed to a knife embedded deep in the victim's chest. Probably a common mugging or something. 

  
  


Nancy nodded as she scanned the ground. The woman's purse had been emptied. The contents were strewn all over the boardwalk. 

  
  


"That's what it looks like to me," the other officer said. "Stabbed her, grabbed the purse, dumped it on the ground and took the valuables."

  
  


"On a boardwalk that was closed off?" Nancy asked skeptically. "What was she doing here in the first place? Not only that, there's nothing missing that a normal lady would carry in her purse."

  
  


"The lady has a point." someone said. Nancy turned around. The man who had spoken was wearing a suit and was escorted by another police officer. "Pardon me," he said stretching out his hand to Nancy's with a friendly smile. "I'm Detective Dave Johnson from Chicago P.D."

  
  


"Nancy Drew, FBI." Nancy replied uncomfortably as she shook his hand. She wasn't actually a member of the FBI. As a deputy marshal of the Network she had been given various ID's so that she could impose authority without giving away the existence of the Network to those who did not need to know. The actual government agencies that she claimed to be from would in fact confirm that she was a member as well if someone were to check up on her. This had been pre-arranged by Andrew S. Fairchild, the chief of the United States Central Network. 

  
  


"Nice to have you with us Ms. Drew," Johnson replied in a friendly voice. "Let's see what we have." He pulled out a notepad, pencil, and began jotting down notes. "Female, Caucasian, late twenties, blonde hair, light makeup, slim, average height, and casual clothes. Anyone have an ID on her yet?"

  
  


"Right here," Nancy said as she bent over and picked up the wallet that had fallen from the victim's purse. She opened it and began to go through it. She found where some credit cards and ID's were kept. "Her name was Jennifer White." Nancy announced as Johnson scribbled it down in his notebook. Nancy continued to go through the wallet until she found another ID card that had been hidden beneath a secret flap. Nancy's face paled as she studied it.

  
  


United States Central Network, (USCN) Jennifer E. White- Rank: First Class Lieutenant- Title: Courier- Commanding Officer: Arthur Gray- DOB. . . . . . 

  
  


*********

  
  


Music echoed throughout the Hardy household. Frank and Joe were hosting a Fourth of July party at their house and had invited their girlfriends, friends, and their friends' girlfriends. As well as some other people. 

  
  


"Hey Frank!" Chet called from the refreshment table. "Do you have any more salsa in the kitchen?"

  
  


Frank grinned and rolled his eyes. Leave it to Chet to worry about food. "Yeah! I'll go grab some for you." Frank made his way to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator and pulled out a jug of salsa. He then carried it to the refreshment table and handed it to Chet. 

  
  


"Thanks," Chet said as he began to pour the contents into the salsa bowl.

  
  


Callie Shaw walked up to the table holding a cup. "Why aren't you dancing?" she asked Frank with a fake pout.

  
  


"Who said I wasn't?" Frank replied playfully.

  
  


Callie smiled, put her drink down, and held out her hand. "Then come on."

  
  


"It'll be my pleasure milady." Frank said as he took her hand and led her out to where everyone was dancing.

  
  


"So what have you been doing all summer?" Callie asked as they danced to a slow song. 

  
  


"This and that," Frank replied evasively. He had taken a crash course called Network Agent Training (NAT) over the first month of the summer. They had learned to tail people, dig up info, defensive measures, strategic moves, how to use the equipment they would come into contact with as well as many other things. Then he had been flown to Washington D.C. where he was sworn in as a sort of under-justice to the Supreme Court. Basically, they had given him a bunch of blank warrants with the signature of one of the Supreme Court Justices. In order to make them valid they had to be filled out and then be counter signed by Frank. He could issue search warrants, arrest warrants, and gag orders. Those warrants would come in handy. There would be no need for breaking and entering again. At least within the United States. He had not had the opportunity to do so yet. He would have explained it all to Callie but there was a small catch. He couldn't tell hardly anyone that he was in the Network.

  
  


"That sounds interesting," Callie replied dryly.

  
  


Frank shrugged uncomfortably. "I guess so." 

  
  


They continued to dance slowly until they were interrupted by Joe who was holding the cordless phone. He and some of the guys were busy watching some sports game or another downstairs. "Hey Frank! It's Fairchild, he wants to talk to you ASAP."

  
  


Frank broke away from Callie. "Sorry, but I have to take this call right now." 

  
  


He walked across the room and took the phone from Joe. He then stepped into the empty kitchen so he could talk in privacy. "Hey Mr. Fairchild. What's up?"

  
  


"Nothing very good, I'm afraid," came Fairchild's voice.

  
  


"Oh?" 

  
  


"Nancy discovered a body with her friends at a carnival in Chicago." Fairchild explained.

  
  


"How does that concern the Network?" Frank asked.

  
  


"The victim was a Network agent. A courier actually."

  
  


"So you want us to catch the murderer?" Frank asked as he opened a drawer and fumbled around for a notepad.

  
  


"That would be nice," Fairchild said. "However, Arthur and I are more interested in what she was carrying. Well, not exactly what. . . more like what the information she carried will lead to."

  
  


"So what do you mean?" Frank asked in a puzzled voice. 

  
  


"It might help if I gave you a bit of background info first. During World War II there was an extensive underground spy movement against the Germans. Unfortunately the identity of one of our chief spies was compromised. The last thing he did before he was captured was to make a cache of information and valuables. The information contained the identity of other spies and enemy movements. It also contained the information as to the identities of several traitors within the CIA. No one but that chief spy knew their identities because we were playing them and feeding them false information. Some of those traitors could still be working in our intelligence agencies. We don't know who they are. The cache not only included valuables, but the locations of other caches. Basically the worth of that one cache is estimated to be worth several hundred millions."

  
  


"Wow," Frank said, "but how is that connected to a dead woman in Chicago?"

  
  


"The cache was known to exist by both sides. Despite that, its location has remained a mystery until now. One of our agents stumbled upon it. He sent the courier, Lieutenant White, she's the victim, to bring us information as to the location of the cache to us. Shortly after she left Marseilles, France, he died mysteriously. White was chased across the continent of Europe and then into the United States. She was to make contact somehow with someone in the Network tonight so that she could hand over the information. Whoever it was, the person was one of those traitors from World War II, or someone connected to them. She's dead, and whatever clue she was carrying is gone."

  
  


"Will they be able to find the cache?"

  
  


"Good insight Frank," Fairchild congratulated him. "They will want to find that cache before we do. Fortunately for us, White only had small clues to the location on her person, the rest was in her mind and we don't think she let it loose to anyone. I want you, Nancy, and Joe to look at all of White's belongings to check for potential clues and then go to Marseilles and find that cache before enemy agents get their hands on it. The cache will betray agents on both sides. We can't afford to let the enemy get their hands on it."

  
  


"We can do that." Frank said.

  
  


"Good," Fairchild replied. "I've taken the liberty to reserve seats on the next flight to Chicago for you. Nancy is currently in charge of the investigation. She's posing as a FBI agent, I want you to go and take charge. When you leave for France leave the local cops or local FBI office in charge. I'll see that you get more info once you arrive."

  
  


"We're packing right now!" Frank said. He said goodbye and hung up the phone. He walked to the head of the basement staircase. "Joe!" he called. "Pack your bags!" 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter Two

The Courier of Marseilles

Lord Dreadnault

  
  


Chapter Two: Investigation

  
  


Nancy watched as the police forensic team took picture after picture of the scene and the corpse of the dead Network courier. Detective Johnson was examining the evidence. He was now going through White's wallet looking for contact numbers. At Mr. Fairchild's request she had pocketed White's Network identification card. Fairchild had also told her that White did not have any family members and not to worry about dealing with that stuff.

  
  


Nancy sighed and walked up the stairs to the square where the merry-go-round lied. It had been cleared of patrons. The only people left were a handful of witnesses and Nancy's friends. She motioned to them that she'd be a minute. Two officers were questioning the witness that had screamed.

  
  


"Ma'am, how did you exactly discover it?" 

  
  


Nancy took a moment to study the woman. She was perhaps in her sixties or seventies, and more handsome than beautiful. Her hair was dark brown with hints of gray at the edges. She appeared to be extremely nervous.

  
  


"I was walking around the square trying to look for my son and his family. We had arranged to meet here and then spend the rest of the evening together. I arrived at the side that overlooked the boardwalk," she pointed over towards where White had been found. "I saw a man looking around at the ground as if looking for something. He looked up, saw me and made a break for it. I looked down toward where he had been scrounging and saw a motionless figure. I figured that she had been killed or something so I yelled."

  
  


The officer nodded as he took down notes. "Did you get a good look at the man?"

  
  


The woman shook her head. "I'm afraid not. It was too dark. I couldn't see a thing."

  
  


"Thank you ma'am, could we get your name and contact information in case we have some more questions?"

  
  


"Of course, my name is Ms. Claire Anderson. I can be contacted at the following number. . . ."

  
  


Nancy walked away toward where her friends had found a bench to sit on. "Sorry," she apologized, "I was just looking at the evidence."

  
  


"How did you get onto the scene like that?" George asked.

  
  


Nancy winced inwardly. That was going to take some explaining so that she didn't get her cover blown. "I guess they recognized me and all that." Nancy said.

  
  


"So what happened?" Brenda asked eagerly. Obviously she had decided to stay and get a scoop on the murder. 

  
  


"Just a normal, everyday mugging," Nancy bluffed. It was assassination really. Brenda looked disappointed. Little did she know how much Nancy had deceived her.

  
  


"Are you ready to go back to River Heights?" Ned asked.

  
  


Nancy shook her head no, "I'm sorry Ned, the police want me to stay so they can get an official statement. I also came up with a couple of theories and they want to hear them. Just go back to River Heights and tell my father for me. Tell him I'll call him as soon as I can." In reality Nancy was in charge of the investigation until Frank arrived.

  
  


"I can stay and wait." Ned said.

  
  


"That won't work Ned," Nancy pointed out, "then Bess and George won't have a ride home."

  
  


Ned nodded. "Okay Nancy, but call me when you need a ride back, I'll come and pick you up."

  
  


"Don't worry," Nancy told him.

  
  


"That won't be necessary," Brenda cut in. "I could wait here with Nancy and drive her home when she's ready to go home." 

  
  


That devil! Nancy thought. She was still trying to get in on the details. 

  
  


"That's perfect!" Ned declared. He said goodby to Nancy and left with George and Bess. Nancy watched him leave sadly. She hated to deceive him. He hated it too.

  
  


"So who do we question first?" Brenda asked, getting out her pen and a notepad to take notes on.

  
  


"Who said you were involved?" Nancy countered.

  
  


Brenda smiled smugly. "You and I know perfectly well why you got Ned, Bess, and George away. You want to investigate without them in the way."

  
  


"So?"

  
  


"So, if you don't let me in on this I'll tell them that." Brenda announced in an even more smug voice.

  
  


Great! Nancy thought sarcastically. Now what do I do? Suddenly Nancy had an idea. They wouldn't be doing too much investigating at the scene. The forensic team was quickly wrapping up. The officers were running out of witnesses to question. She could just hitch a ride with one of the cops back to headquarters and leave Brenda high and dry. Except that Brenda had a car. Oh well, no one would let her past the front desk. "Fine," Nancy announced, "try and follow me."

  
  


Nancy walked down the stairs with Brenda following. Detective Johnson was talking to one of the members of the forensic team. "Are we about finished?" Nancy asked.

  
  


"Actually, we are," Johnson replied with a smile.

  
  


"I'm afraid I didn't bring a car to the park with me," Nancy said. "Is it all right if I hitch a ride with you?"

  
  


"Of course," Johnson said, "I was just about to leave, follow me."

  
  


Unfortunately Brenda followed. As Nancy and Detective Johnson arrived in the square Nancy spotted the officer that had been questioning the woman who had screamed. "Excuse me officer," Nancy said, "this woman tells me that she saw something important, could you question her quickly?"

  
  


"Of course ma'am," the officer replied. He took Brenda's arm and led her over the other questioning officer. Brenda shot Nancy a murderous glare as she and Johnson walked away.

  
  


"What was that about?" Johnson asked.

  
  


"She's with the press," Nancy responded crossly. "Make sure you keep her away from the investigation, she'll ruin it if she can. If necessary I can get a gag order issued." Frank would be more than glad to do so.

  
  


"Wow! Now that's what I call high and mighty power." Detective Johnson joked.

  
  


*********

  
  


Nancy sat down at Johnson's desk. He had gone to go and get Ms. White's belongings at Nancy's request. He had also given her permission to use his phone. She picked it up and dialed her home number. Her father answered.

  
  


"Nancy? Is that you? Where have you been?" came Carson Drew's voice.

  
  


"It's me all right," Nancy replied with a smile.

  
  


"Ned came and told me that you've gotten involved with a murder."

  
  


"Sort of," Nancy said, "I'm on the case all right."

  
  


"How did you pull that off?" Mr. Drew asked. "Isn't the Chicago Police Department in charge of the investigation?"

  
  


"Basically." Nancy said. It was time for her to tell her father some sort of explanation about the Network. Mr. Fairchild had given her permission especially because she was the only one in her family that knew about the Network, whereas, Frank and Joe had each other and their father. "Remember how I was away taking all those 'courses' in June?"

  
  


"What about it?"

  
  


"I took them because I'm now, um, employed." Nancy said.

  
  


"Employed by whom?"

  
  


"The government," Nancy explained. "It's sort of the FBI and CIA wrapped into one."

  
  


"Is it dangerous?" Mr. Drew asked in a worried voice. 

  
  


"It depends on how good I am." Nancy replied.

  
  


"What kind of answer is that!" 

  
  


"Don't worry Dad. Anyway, Ned told you that some woman died in a mugging, right?"

  
  


"Yes, what about it?"

  
  


"It wasn't just a plain murder. It was an assassination. She was a courier for the government. The Hardys and I are in charge of the investigation."

  
  


"That's a lot to take in," Mr. Drew managed to get out.

  
  


"Look, I got to hurry. Chances are that Brenda is going to show up and try to cause some trouble with Bess and George. Tell them that I haven't abandoned them or anything like that okay?"

  
  


"I'll do that Nancy, but you have to promise that you'll explain it to me when you get back."

  
  


"Don't worry, I will. Bye."

  
  


"Bye."

  
  


Nancy sighed and hung up the phone. I hope Bess and George understand, and Ned, Nancy thought. 

  
  


Johnson walked back into the room carrying an open box. "Here's the stuff we found on her body and the contents of her purse." 

  
  


Nancy stood up and began to carefully sort through the box. First she took the purse and examined it for any secret compartments. There was nothing. 

  
  


"What is she? A smuggler?" Johnson queried.

  
  


Nancy shook her head. "This is not a simple murder. This is an assassination."

  
  


Johnson sat down in one of the chairs. "An assassination eh? Who was she?"

  
  


"You'll have to keep this to yourself. She was a courier for a government agency. That is all I will say about her." Nancy said to Johnson as she examined a makeup kit.

  
  


"You don't have to say anything else Ms. Drew. I can tell you're looking for what she was carrying."

  
  


Nancy smiled as she set down the makeup kit. There had been nothing in it. Next she examined White's appointment book. It was obvious that several pages had been neatly torn out. The pages from the last six months. There was one entry left in the book: 

Rendezvous w/ Col. Carnival- Jul4-Chicago- 22:30 

  
  


She must have met the Colonel all right. Whoever he was, Nancy thought to herself grimly. She would have to notify Fairchild that one of the traitors was a colonel either in the Network or the armed forces. Probably the Network.

  
  


Nancy set down the appointment book and looked through the other contents of the purse while Johnson silently looked on. Next she came to a pouch. The type was familiar to Nancy. She pulled out a standard issue Network pistol. She held it up to her nose and sniffed it. Used recently, Nancy noted to herself. She set it down and began to go through the things that had been found on White's person.

  
  


Two daggers and their sheaths, a necklace, two earrings, clothing and undergarments that had no secret pockets, shoes, stockings, and a ring. A very old ring, it looked like an antique. Nancy studied it curiously. Fairchild had said that she had no family. Did she have a fiancé? A lover perhaps. The ring wasn't a class ring for a high school or college. 

  
  


"Do you mind if I use your phone again?" Nancy asked the detective.

  
  


"Not at all," Johnson responded. "Is that what she was carrying?"

  
  


Nancy shook her head and picked up the phone and dialed Fairchild's number. It rang several times before someone picked it up.

  
  


"Hello?"

  
  


"Who is this?" Nancy asked.

  
  


"Don't you recognize me?"

  
  


"Oh, sorry Elayne," Nancy said. "Can I speak with your father?"

  
  


"No." Elayne replied.

  
  


"Why not?" Nancy asked. 

  
  


"I don't know. Did you know that Dad married Amanda?"

  
  


"Yes, he told us that Elayne. How are things?"

  
  


"Just wonderful. Amanda spends a lot of time with me." Elayne said.

  
  


"Elayne, I really need to talk to your father, can you put him on the line?"

  
  


"No, he left to go have a meeting. He's not home."

  
  


"Why didn't you tell that to me in the first place?" Nancy demanded, trying to keep her calm.

  
  


Elayne laughed. "It's funny! I do that all the time."

  
  


"Look Elayne, do you know where your father keeps his files? I need to find something out." Nancy inquired.

  
  


"Like something about that courier that got killed in Chicago? Maybe something from her dossier? The very dossier my father left with me in case you or Joe called?"

  
  


"I give up!" Nancy said in an exasperated voice. "Did Ms. White have a lover, fiancé, or husband?"

  
  


The sound of rustling paper came through the line. Finally Elayne answered. "Nope."

  
  


"Please tell your father that I found a peculiar ring in her belongings. Tell him I need to know where it came from and to contact me sometime soon." Nancy instructed.

  
  


"Aye aye ma'am!" Elayne said.

  
  


"Bye Elayne."

  
  


Nancy hung up. So, the ring was most likely important. It could be a clue to where the cache was. Either that or a clue as to where White spent some time. "Do you mind if I keep this ring?" Nancy asked Johnson.

  
  


"It's your investigation," he replied cheerfully. 

  
  


"Not for long," Nancy said. "I, nor my associates will spend very much time here. When we leave you're back in charge. It's doubtful that you'll find the murderer. He'll probably be going where we're going. To the place this all started at."

  
  


"Oh well, you can take the ring anyway." Johnson said.

  
  


Nancy smiled as she sat down and began to sort through the evidence once again. Maybe she had missed something. Hopefully Frank and Joe would show up soon. Frank and I always seem to be able to come up good theories and ideas between us, Nancy noted absently as she studied White's purse.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Review Responses:

  
  


Okay, so I got a lot of questions in my reviews, thank you very much, I'm more than happy to answer questions. Also, a quick note- I'm going out of town for the next week, so that means that I won't be updating for a while. If you're desperate for chapter 3, (which has been typed already) You can check for it at www.hardydetectiveagency.com It will be published there sometime in the middle of the coming week. :) Check the message board under story announcements/updates for the link. :)

  
  


anonymous 327- Nancy's friends didn't see Nancy flash the card, they might've seen her flash something, but they don't know that the cops think she's in the FBI. And. . . . Fairchild wanted to talk to Frank because, #1- He senses that Frank is the dominant brother, #2, Frank outranks Joe, #3 Fairchild relates to Frank more easily, therefore he's better at communicating with him.

  
  


halo_ - How do I come up with story ideas? Hmmmm. . . . lots of different ways. Basically, I come up with some sort of idea, or a cool title that I can put something too, then I make a beginning sort of, I know what the problem is, then I already know the solution. Next I began writing. I just have to pump enough life into the characters, (good and bad) and they tend to then drag me through the story helping me come up with the plot. Sometimes if I give them too much life, the villain might get changed, or the basic idea might get changed and the case will turn out different. In the Fairchild Affair I did not really plan on putting Fairchild on top of the Network for the first couple of chapters. I made him too much of a 'spook' so he became the head of the Network. (He was supposed to be a retired Navy Admiral. . . . but then I had him start using his handy dandy garotte. . . . In this story I have it planned out well enough that it will end in the basic way I plan though. :) It'll be a very interesting showdown, if I do say so myself. . . . 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter Three

A/N: Thank you for your patience and reviews. I have survived Disneyland! :) The next chapter shall come along soon. . . . 

  
  
  
  


The Courier of Marseilles

Lord Dreadnault

  
  


Chapter Three: Research and Information

  
  


Frank and Joe Hardy disembarked from Flight 1276. Like most flights, it had been running late. "Where do we go?" Joe asked Frank.

  
  


Frank shrugged. "The agent that gave us our tickets back at Bayport International said that another agent or two would meet us here with a ride and some more background information."

  
  


"What kind of information?" Joe asked.

  
  


"Everything the Network knows about the possible locations of the cache, contacts, destinations, people who were involved with the spies back in World War II, that kind of stuff."

  
  


Joe smiled excitedly, "Contacts, destinations, license to kill!"

  
  


"Very funny Joe," Frank commented dryly as they walked towards the luggage pickup stations. 

  
  


Frank and Joe found their luggage quickly and made their way outside to the pickup lanes and began to look around for some spook type people. "I don't see anyone that looks like they belong to the Network," Joe commented.

  
  


"If they looked like they belonged to the Network they wouldn't be doing their job," Frank pointed out as a black Lincoln Towncar pulled up to the curb.

  
  


A man jumped out and walked around the car. "Hi, I'm Private Jensen," he said, shaking their hands. "You must be Marshal Hardy, and Deputy Marshal Hardy."

  
  


Frank smiled politely. "Just Frank and Joe please."

  
  


"Then just call me Dirk," Jensen said, returning the smile. 

  
  


"How did you pick us out of all the people standing here waiting for rides?" Joe inquired as Dirk helped them put their luggage into the trunk.

  
  


Dirk laughed, "I've actually worked with you before on one of your cases."

  
  


"Oh?" Frank said, his interest sparked. "Which one?"

  
  


"Remember the Lazarus Clinic? There must of been a billion of us there that night." Dirk said.

  
  


Joe nodded and shuddered. "Not on of my favorites. Not at all."

  
  


"That one was very odd indeed," Dirk commented as they all climbed into the car. Frank in the front with Dirk, and Joe by himself.

  
  


They pulled away from the curb. "So where are we going?" Frank inquired.

  
  


"The local police headquarters," Dirk replied. "Deputy Marshal Drew should be there looking over the evidence they found on Lieutenant White's body. Oh whoops! I was supposed to give this to you too." Dirk reached under his seat and handed Frank a thick packet with a envelope stuck to the front.

  
  


Frank took the envelope off and opened it, and read it:

  
  


Frank:

Just a quick note, you probably shouldn't open this packet in front of your chauffeur. Neither should you talk about your case. I went through channels and he probably doesn't know that I was the one who gave the order to pick you up. Whoever he/she is, they could be working under the chain of command of one of those agents possibly involved with this case. Most of your cases will be like this. You, Ms. Drew, and your brother serve me personally, therefore, whatever I assign you is most likely to be a delicate matter. Caution is always wise.

A.S.F.

  
  


Frank set the packet down and handed the note to Joe. "So, anything interesting been happening around here?" Frank asked Dirk.

  
  


Dirk shrugged. "Not really, the only remotely interesting thing is White's murder."

  
  


"How's that?" 

  
  


"I don't know," Dirk replied. "Most people claim that it was just a mugging or something like that. Rumor has it though that she was stationed in Europe for a time and just barely got back."

  
  


"Back?" Frank said in a quizzical voice.

  
  


Dirk nodded affirmatively. "Yes sir, back. Chicago was actually where she was stationed before she supposedly left for Europe."

  
  


That's interesting, Frank thought. Did White have a specific person or place to carry the info, or was she just supposed to get the info to the Network somehow through the chain of command? Perhaps there was a traitor in Chicago. "Hey Dirk," Frank asked. "If White wanted to contact someone high up who would she go to in Chicago?"

  
  


Dirk thought for a moment. "She was a lieutenant, if she wanted to be prim and proper she would go to a captain maybe. If she wanted to get high up she might've arranged a meeting with a colonel or general. Maybe."

  
  


Joe had caught on to what Frank was up to joined in. "Any colonels or generals about Chicago?" he asked.

  
  


Dirk nodded. "Yes, there actually a couple of colonels hanging about. I can't recall their names, they're only here temporarily. Don't quite know what they're doing here. Some sort of un-official visit."

  
  


"Who's the highest ranking person around here?" Frank asked.

  
  


Dirk laughed, "Why, you are sir!"

  
  


"Me? I'm just a marshal!" Frank retorted.

  
  


"Face it sir, a marshal is basically the same thing as commander-general." Dirk said in an amused tone. 

  
  


"How many marshals and deputy marshals are there?" Joe asked curiously.

  
  


"Just you three right now. Usually the Commander-General only commissions marshals temporarily. You're the first permanent ones that I've heard of."

  
  


Frank raised his eyebrows, "Indeed?"

  
  


"Yes sir, and here's headquarters," Dirk said as he pulled the car in front of the police headquarters. "Don't worry about your luggage, I'm your driver the whole time while you're in Chicago."

  
  


Frank and Joe exited the car, thanked Dirk, and walked into the building as the Lincoln pulled away to find a parking spot. They walked across the lobby to talk to the desk sergeant.

  
  


"Hey look!" Joe whispered, "It's Brenda Carlton."

  
  


Frank glanced over to the chairs in front of the desk and sighed. "Well that means that Nancy is around somewhere."

  
  


They approached the desk and the sergeant looked up, "Hi, we're Frank and Joe Hardy," Frank said, introducing them.

  
  


The sergeant nodded, "Of course, of course. From the FBI right? You're expected." He gave them directions to where Nancy was running the investigation. As they left the lobby Joe turned around and gave Brenda a cheeky wave just as she looked up.

  
  


"Was that nice Joe?" Frank said as they walked down the long and mostly dark hallway.

  
  


"If I had not done it, you would have," Joe replied solemnly. 

  
  


Frank rolled his eyes as he opened the door to Detective Johnson's office and walked in closing it behind him. Nancy was sitting at the desk alone, thoroughly examining a set of clothes. "Hey Drew, what's up?" Frank said in way of greeting.

  
  


"The ceiling, Hardy," Nancy retorted in a very tired voice. 

  
  


Joe laughed out loud. "So, have you found anything interesting?" he asked as he and Frank sat down.

  
  


Nancy sighed, "Just this ring." She picked up a antique, golden ring, and handed it to Frank.

  
  


Frank examined it closely. "Nothing much on it, just this nice pattern." he commented.

  
  


"Couldn't find anything at all on it. I got it from White's dossier, via Elayne, that White wasn't ever married or engaged, so the ring must mean something." Nancy said as she stifled a large yawn. 

  
  


"Do you need some coffee?" Frank asked with concern.

  
  


Nancy shook her head, "No thanks, I've already had a gallon and it hasn't done much."

  
  


"Oh well," Joe said eager to get on with the investigation. "Fairchild had this packet sent to us, should have some more useful information."

  
  


Frank nodded, "Let's split it up, unless of course, Nancy wants to catch some sleep first."

  
  


"No, really, I'll be fine. I can catch some sleep on the plane, to wherever we're going." Nancy said in protest. She was just as interested.

  
  


"Okay, that works," Frank said.

  
  


Joe opened the packet. For the most part it contained, notes, memos, reports, lists and histories. He divided it into three equal portions, keeping it in order. "Here you go, let's read up on this and then compare notes when we're finished."

  
  


Frank and Nancy nodded and the trio began to read.

  
  


*********

  
  


"Are you two finished yet?" Joe asked in an impatient voice. "Let's get on with the show."

  
  


"We're finished Joe," Nancy replied tiredly.

  
  


"Great, I'll start!" Joe said. He began to outline what he had read. "Okay, approximately five years ago a Dr. Alfred Bernardo, an American history professor linked to the Network stumbled on a clue or something that may have led to his discovery of the cache. The report refers to it as the Boswell Cache. John Boswell was the chief spy/resistance person situated in and around Marseilles, France. Apparently there was a traitor within his organization and they were betrayed to Nazi spies/forces that were pressing forward. Just before being discovered and executed by the Nazis, Boswell hid this cache filled with extremely valuable information that could hurt either side, the Allies or the Axis depending upon whose hands it fell into. Not only did he hide information, he hid treasure. The Boswell cache is estimated to be worth millions. Who's next?"

  
  


"I am, I suppose," Nancy said. "I got more stuff about Bernardo. Apparently he resided in the same residence that Boswell lived in back during the war. That probably explains how he found the clues that led to wherever he found the cache. Our contacts in Marseilles are his nephew and niece. Jean and Felicia. They're approximately eighteen to nineteen years old. They know what places Bernardo visited frequently before his 'accidental' death. While we are there they will serve as our tour guides and show us all of the places."

  
  


"I have that here," Frank said. "The two sites are actually tourist sites that see a ton of tourists every year. Apparently they served as spy hideouts during the war. The two places are, Abbaye de Sènanque and Fort de Buoux. Fairchild also warns us that we won't be the only ones looking for the cache. We need to be careful of enemies that will likely be among us. He also warns that we may have a disadvantage due to the fact that the enemy has already had a week to search the fort and abbey. He also notes that several previous searches have also been made, which included the fort and the abbey."

  
  


"Does anybody have anything else to add?" Nancy asked through a yawn.

  
  


Frank and Joe shook their head. "Nope, nothing else here. I think that covers it." Joe said.

  
  


"Good," Frank said, "I'll go see about making reservations to Marseilles. I hope you have your passports on you." Everyone nodded. "Good. Nancy, chances are that we'll have to wait a little while. Why don't you take a nap or something?"

  
  


"I still need to get packed," Nancy said. 

  
  


Frank frowned. "Whoops, sorry, I forgot. Let's see, I bet I can get an afternoon or evening flight. Let's have Dirk drive us over to River Heights where Nancy can pack and get some rest. Then we'll catch our flight later."

  
  


"Dirk?" Nancy asked.

  
  


"He's the guy that drove us from the airport. He's in the Network," Joe said, filling Nancy in.

  
  


Nancy nodded. "That sounds good to me." 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter Four

If any of you have sent me e-mails, or are waiting for me to respond to something or another, give me time- I'm swamped!

  
  
  
  


The Courier of Marseilles

Lord Dreadnault

  
  


Chapter Four: Departure

  
  
  
  


Frank, Nancy, and Joe walked out into the lobby of the Chicago Police Department. They promptly made a beeline for the front entrance but they were cut off. "That was a nice trick you pulled Nancy," Brenda said in a sarcastic voice. "It didn't work for long though. I called up my father and he thinks that this White murder sounds interesting."

  
  


Frank and Joe rolled their eyes as Nancy groaned tiredly. "Get lost Brenda," Nancy said.

  
  


"You heard the lady!" Joe said in a pompous voice. "Buzz off!"

  
  


"I'm not that easy to get rid of Hardy," Brenda said cooly. "I can smell out a good story. Either let me in on this or I'll make life difficult with your friends Drew."

  
  


Nancy looked at Brenda with a blank face and then leaned towards Frank and whispered, "Can't you deal with this?"

  
  


Frank's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. "Why didn't I think of that? If you three will excuse me I will return shortly." He swiftly walked out towards where Dirk had dropped them off. 

  
  


The group watched him go and then Brenda continued. "So what will it be Drew? Am I in or out?"

  
  


"Looks like you're inside this building to me, but I don't know. . ." Joe commented idly.

  
  


Frank strolled in through the entrance holding a sheet of paper. He waved merrily to them and walked over towards the front desk and gave the paper to the sergeant on duty. 

  
  


"I think Frank has our answer for you," Nancy said in a cheerful voice. 

  
  


Frank ambled over to them and then pointed over to the desk. "I gave everything you need to know to that guy, if you'll go over there he'll be happy to. . . assist you."

  
  


Brenda look at him suspiciously and then headed towards the desk as Frank, Joe, and Nancy hurriedly left and ran over to the black Lincoln. Frank and Nancy go into the back and Joe went into the front with Dirk.

  
  


"So did you 'gag' her?" Nancy asked as Dirk pulled away from the curb.

  
  


Frank grinned and shook his head. There's nothing they know worth gagging, so it would be kind of pointless."

  
  


"Then what did you do?" Joe asked.

  
  


"Three day detention in the slammer for attempting to interfere and blackmail federal agents working on a federal investigation." Frank said, beginning to laugh.

  
  


Nancy and Joe joined him. "I'm going to remember this day for the rest of my life!" Nancy burst out.

  
  


"So am I," Joe said through his laughter.

  
  


"Where to?" Dirk asked as they cruised down one of the main drags. 

  
  


"River Heights," Frank replied.

  
  


*******

  
  


Yawning, Frank, Nancy and Joe disembarked from their trans-Atlantic flight in Marseilles, France. "Where did Fairchild say that Jean and Felicia were going to meet us?" Nancy asked as she scanned the airport for the pair. 

  
  


"Right here," came a deep voice from behind the trio.

  
  


The three spun around to find themselves face to face with a handsome young man, and a lovely young woman. "You scared us," Nancy said catching her breath.

  
  


"Sorry," the girl said. She held out her hand and Nancy, Frank and Joe shook it in turn. "I'm Felicia Bernardo. This is my brother Jean." She motioned towards him.

  
  


"I'm Frank, this is my brother Joe, and this is Nancy." Frank said introducing them.

  
  


Jean smiled, "It is wonderful to meet you. Mr. Fairchild has filled us in on your assignment."

  
  


"That's good," Joe replied. "Do you have any extra background info that we might not have gotten?"

  
  


"Actually," Felicia answered, "we do. We know more than Fairchild let on. Security and all of that."

  
  


"What other stuff do you know about or have access to?" Nancy asked getting excited.

  
  


"Mr. Fairchild told you that we live in Boswell's old house right?" Jean confirmed.

  
  


Nancy nodded. "He said that, he even said your uncle may have found clues in the house."

  
  


Felicia nodded. "He did. Most of them disappeared at his time of death, probably stolen by enemy agents. Fortunately, none of those clues they stole were very important, or at least they aren't anymore."

  
  


Frank frowned. "What do you mean 'aren't anymore?"

  
  


"It's quite simple actually," Jean replied. "You see, Boswell made it so only certain people with certain knowledge would understand the clues. He directed the clues to the American CIA as it was in the early forties. Perhaps even specific people within the CIA. Any others he directed those clues to died in the war."

  
  


"How many clues do you still have?" Joe inquired.

  
  


Felicia sighed. "Two. Two measly clues. At least they're the ones that led my uncle within reach of the cache. Hopefully you can decipher them."

  
  


"What are they?" Nancy asked eagerly.

  
  


Jean looked around at the people passing by and answered, "Maybe it would be best to wait to talk about them."

  
  


Nancy nodded, "That's a good point."

  
  


"Hopefully the clues will lead you to the right place," Felicia said. "If not, we'll be heading to one of the places that our uncle thought the cache was hidden, Abbaye de Sènanque or Fort de Buoux."

  
  


"Let's pick up your luggage and get going. We're both eager to help you on this case," Jean said as he lead them to pick up their luggage.

  
  


*******

  
  


"Here's the library," Felicia announced, opening a pair of doors that led into a spacious room. "This also served as uncle Alfred's study. We set up the desk exactly as it was the day he was found dead."

  
  


Nancy, Frank, and Joe walked over to the desk and examined it. On it lay several average things one expected to find on a desk. Pencils, pens, papers, envelope holder, and an ornamental letter open made to look like a knife. On the center stood a wooden figurine of religious saint. "Where are the clues?" Joe asked.

  
  


Felicia walked up behind them and pointed to the figurine. "That's one of them. I estimate that it's about fifty years old. Probably carved just for the purpose of being a clue." Next she pointed to the letter opener. "That's the other one. You guys can just look around and we'll call you when lunch is ready."

  
  


"Sounds good to me. Thank you." Nancy said to Felicia as she left. 

  
  


Joe reached out his hand and picked up the figurine. "This one definitely points to the abbey." he commented.

  
  


Frank shrugged. "Perhaps. However, that seems a little too obviously to me. It might have a different meaning."

  
  


"I don't know," Nancy countered. "They say the best place to hide something is in the open."

  
  


"Come on you guys," Joe said, "if it was in the open someone would have noticed it by now. According to Fairchild, loads of people have looked for the Boswell Cache."

  
  


"Let's just keep our minds open then," Frank suggested as he reached out to pick up the knife that served as a letter opener. "This doesn't seem to point at anything specific at all." he commented. He passed it to Nancy who examined it.

  
  


"No symbols or anything," Nancy noted, "just plain, yet slightly ornamental."

  
  


Joe set the figurine down on the table and took the knife when Nancy offered it to him. "It's sharp," he commented as he tested his finger on the blade. He examined it closer. "I'd say that it's about the same age as the figurine too."

  
  


"That's interesting," Frank mused, "two of the clues are basically the exact same age. Maybe they're connected somehow and that makes up the whole clue, or maybe it's a coincidence. Any ideas?"

  
  


"I have no idea," Nancy answered Frank.

  
  


"Me either," Joe said as he reached to set the knife back down. As he reached he knocked the figurine onto the floor. "Whoops!" he exclaimed. Frank and Nancy rolled their eyes. Joe bent over and picked up the figurine. "Hey you guys, I've knocked something loose! This thing has a false bottom."

  
  


Frank and Nancy made their way around the desk to Joe as he stood up holding the figurine. "Can you get it open?" Frank asked Joe.

  
  


"One sec," Joe replied. "It's kind of stuck." He pulled at the bottom and it slowly came off. "Drat! Look, there hardly a compartment. All there is in there is a piece of paper stuck to the bottom." Joe handed the bottom to Frank.

  
  


Frank looked into it and carefully fished out the folded piece of paper. "This is old and dry," he commented as he gingerly unfolded it and set it down on the desk. The three gathered around to read the contents.

  
  


TO THE CIA

I HAVE SECURED AWAY THE LAST OF THE ITEMS IN THE HIDING PLACE-

LIKE EDWARD V OF ENGLAND- || I HAVE BURIED IT IN A SECRET PLACE-

I HAVE LEFT MANY CLUES AS TO WHERE THE HIDING PLACE IS THAT FEW WILL RECOGNIZE OR UNDERSTAND-

THIS IS MY LAST CLUE-

I FEAR THAT THEY COME FOR ME-

THIS CLUE WILL LEAD YOU TO THE CACHE SHOULD THE GUARDIAN I HAVE LEFT TAKE THE SECRET TO THE GRAVE-

IT IS NON-ACCESSIBLE (CONVENIENTLY) EXCEPT FOR HIM-

FOR NONE REMEMBER

BOSWELL

  
  
  
  


"So which part is the clue?" Joe asked quizzically. 

  
  


"I'm thinking that it's the part about Edward the Fifth," Nancy replied in an equally puzzled voice. 

  
  


"It sounds like he also left someone behind, or told someone where it was," Frank added. "Maybe this is a double clue. A lot of help that is. If this person was still alive someone probably would have found the cache by now though."

  
  


"What's that mark between England and I?" Nancy asked, intently studying the message.

  
  


Frank squinted and leaned forward, "I don't know. It kind of looks smudged though. What I want to know is what he means by 'for none remember.'"

  
  


"It probably means that no one remembers that the hiding place exists," Joe said distractedly as he looked at the smudged mark. "I can't make it out either," he commented.

  
  


"Sounds like he got worried that maybe he hid the cache too well," Nancy said. "Either that or the entrance is locked. 'conveniently' probably means going through the proper entrance. He thinks that maybe we'll have to break through or into the room."

  
  


"I know!" Joe exclaimed. "Maybe it's a secret room in the abbey or fort, and the entrance to the room is locked or sealed. Not only that, no one knows that it exists anyway."

  
  


"Great. That means we'll have to search for this 'secret room' in both the abbey and fort. Maybe the knife can narrow things down a bit." Nancy said. 

  
  


"Maybe the figurine is still significant by itself," Frank mused. "Maybe the cache is hidden just like the clue was hidden."

  
  


"Then what's the stuff about Edward V?" Joe asked. "That figurine is a saint, not a king."

"Just a thought," Frank shrugged. 

  
  


"We should probably visit these places with Jean and Felicia. Maybe things will seem a little clearer then." Nancy said.

  
  


"Sounds good to me," Joe said, "let's check out the abbey first though. I have a hunch that the figurine was pointing towards there."

  
  


They stood in thoughtful silence studying the various clues until an explosion from downstairs echoed throughout the house.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. Chapter Five

The Courier of Marseilles

Lord Dreadnault

  
  


Chapter Five: Fort de Buoux

  
  
  
  
  
  


Frank, Nancy, and Joe stared at each other for a moment and then with lightning quick reflexes dashed down the stairs to where the explosion came from. They found Jean staring at a mutilated package on the floor.

  
  


"What happened?" Joe asked quickly.

  
  


Jean shrugged. "This package came in the post and when I opened it up it exploded."

  
  


Frank knelt down in front of the remains and sifted through it analyzing it. "The address label was printed, we won't be able to trace that. Probably some sort of flash paper with a slight explosive as well." Frank continued and found a note. 

  
  


STAY AWAY FROM THE FORT AND ABBEY- IF YOU WANT TO LIVE. . . . 

  
  


"Well, that's friendly," Nancy commented.

  
  


"Look at how it's worded," Joe pointed out. "They don't know where it is either! Only that it's at the fort or the abbey. If we can put some of those clues together we'll be ahead of them."

  
  


Just then Felicia walked through the door holding a bag from the market. She looked at the package quizzically. "What happened?"

  
  


Jean explained and retold the story he had told the Hardys and Nancy. When he finished Felicia raised an eyebrow. "How. . . interesting."

  
  


Nancy shifted uncomfortably. This was strange. "Hey, Frank, Joe, let's go up and see if we can find anything else."

  
  


Frank and Joe nodded and proceeded to follow Nancy up the staircase as Felicia called to them that dinner would be ready shortly.

  
  


"What do you think that was about?" Frank asked as they walked back into the library.

  
  


Nancy shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe we've already worn out our welcome, with Felicia at least."

  
  


"It's possible," Frank replied as he studied the note they had found. He quickly shifted the topic to the note. "What I want to know, is how the CIA should know that Boswell's guard is dead, or rather, has taken the secret to the grave. I get the impression that this note is addressed to the CIA assuming that they only know sketchy details. Nothing specific, like who operated with him, what their secret codes were and all that."

  
  


Nancy nodded. "I think you're on to something. I don't think that Boswell expected the CIA to start out blindly though. They would have known some things. If perhaps only some of the people he worked with, or where to find this clue, something."

  
  


"Maybe not," Joe said frowning thoughtfully. "Put yourself in Boswell's shoes. Your death, or perhaps your escape is imminent. You may never return. You have perhaps already hidden the cache earlier. You've sent out clues, codes, signals, to fellow spies and connections on how to find the cache. Stuff that only they would know. Time passes on, things are getting a lot worse in general than expected, but you still have time. Maybe most of your connections have been wiped out. What do you do?"

  
  


"He would have to send the clues or location to the Allies," Frank said. "Whatever intelligence there is in France is failing. It's not safe to trust the cache to it anymore."

  
  


"Yes," Joe replied. "He would send it to foreign intelligence in a hope that the cache would be recovered. Who would he stretch out to?"

  
  


"The American CIA," Nancy replied.

  
  


"Bingo," Joe said. "He would leave it to an intelligence agency that perhaps knew of his existence, would come looking for what he had hidden, but did not know enough. They would find his clues though, and the clues would lead them."

  
  


"Good point," Frank said. "That means that supposedly we should be able to find it with whatever clues were directed to the CIA. Only one problem, this may not be the only clue."

  
  


"So!" Nancy burst out catching on, "Boswell would know that some of the clues would be lost or destroyed. He would make it so that the CIA could find it with only one clue, one piece of evidence. We have two!"

  
  


"Exactly." Joe said. "Not only that, the clue should lead to the guard he left behind."

  
  


Frank considered it and nodded in agreement. "Which means. . ." he said as he picked up the knife/letter opener, "that this should have something if it's a clue for the CIA." There was a faint pop as a compartment in the handle opened and a piece of paper fell out. Frank picked it up, examined it, and began to laugh.

  
  


"What?" Nancy asked.

  
  


"It's the same note, just a copy," Frank chuckled. 

  
  


Nancy looked at the figurine and the knife in turn. "That means that the knife and the figurine should lead to the same place or person." she observed. 

  
  


"A carver or woodworker maybe," Joe mused. "Maybe an antiques dealer, or an art dealer, or an artist."

  
  


"Not antiques Joe," Frank pointed out. "The figurine and knife are only fifty years old. Hardly antiques then."

  
  


"I'm afraid that we aren't just going to be able to guess this stuff off the top of our head," Nancy sighed. "These clues were given on the assumption that the majority of Boswell's associates would be hanging around when the CIA came. All they would have to do would be to connect these to one person and voila!" 

  
  


"Not only that," Joe added. "How old would you be if you were a spy? Twenty five, thirty? Maybe older. Take all the spies' ages, add sixty years to that and you're well above the average mortality rate. Assuming that they died naturally of course."

  
  


"So we'll just have to operate assuming that our only possible connection is dead." Frank said, summing it all up.

  
  


"I guess so," Nancy said gloomily as they heard Felicia call them for dinner.

  
  


********

  
  


Frank, Nancy, Joe, Felicia, and Jean hiked up the narrow trail to Fort de Buoux. Felicia motioned over towards the wall and jumble of boulders on the right. "Those are some of the ancient burial tombs. They're carved into solid rock. There's about one hundred stone sarcophagi left. You can see about a dozen of them if you get close enough."

  
  


"I don't think we're that interested right now," Joe said as they continued up the narrow trail.

  
  


Nancy stepped forward close to Joe. "Maybe there isn't a guardian. Maybe the 'taken to the grave' reference means that Boswell buried some clue or another in one of the tombs."

  
  


Joe and Frank shrugged. "If we don't find anything interesting we'll check them out on our way out."

  
  


Nancy nodded as they approached the gatehouse. They each paid ten francs for admission to the guard. They then stepped forward and over to the cliff. "What an awesome view." Nancy said in an admiring tone.

  
  


Felicia nodded. "I just love this view. When uncle Alfred came to visit while looking for the cache I would often just sit here and admire it. If you don't mind I think I'll just sit down and wait for you guys."

  
  


"Why don't I stay with you," Jean suggested in a concerned voice. "This could be dangerous."

  
  


Felicia rolled her eyes. "Whatever Jean." She turned to Frank, Nancy and Joe. "I hope you don't mind. Good luck on finding anything though."

  
  


The trio left the two siblings and entered the fort. Several tourists were already exploring and looking around. "Do you think that any of these people might be the enemy?" Joe asked in a whisper.

  
  


"Probably," Frank replied. "Watch your step."

  
  


Joe looked down and stepped over a stone that he had nearly tripped over. "Whoops. . ."

  
  


They continued to search the whole grounds over several hours until they had one last place left to explore. "Let's go up into the watchtower," Frank said. "It's the only place we haven't searched so far."

  
  


"Sounds good to me," Nancy agreed.

  
  


"It's probably there somewhere," Joe said hopefully.

  
  


They walked back through the fortress towards where the stone spiral staircase that led to the top began. Their way was blocked however. A man of about seventy years of age was sitting on the third step up and effectively blocking any entrance to the tower. He was fiercely whittling away at a stick.

  
  


Frank, Nancy, and Joe gave each other uncomfortable glances. Nancy stepped forward. "Excuse me, but could you possibly just let us past you?" 

  
  


The old man stopped whittling and looked up at them, glaring. "The past? Yes. . . the past." A faraway look grew in his eyes. "The past. . . history." He stood up abruptly and stalked off muttering about 'the past' to himself.

  
  


Frank arched and eyebrow. "What was that about?" 

  
  


"He's an oddball if I ever saw one." Joe commented as they climbed the tower to find nothing. "It looks like we'll have to look in the abbey tomorrow."

  
  


"Oh well, maybe we'll find something there." Nancy said hopefully has they descended to meet with Felicia and Jean.

  
  


They found the siblings where they had left them. "Find anything?" Felicia asked.

  
  


"I'm afraid not," Joe replied.

  
  


"Better luck next time," Jean said smiling as he stood up. "For now, let's go home."

  
  


They were just passing the guardhouse when Nancy stopped. "I just want to ask the watchman something. I'll be down in a moment. Go on ahead."

  
  


The others nodded and Nancy stopped to talk with the security guard. "Excuse me sir," Nancy said. "Do you happen to know anything about a seventy year old man . . ." she described him to the guard and their incident.

  
  


The guard laughed. "That's just Claude. He's harmless."

  
  


"What do you know about him?" Nancy inquired.

  
  


The guard shrugged. "He's been hanging around longer than I've had this job. He's kind of, well you know. . . a couple of eggs short of a dozen. Usually goes out of his way to avoid tourists."

  
  


"Then why was he on the staircase and acting like that?" Nancy asked.

  
  


The guard shrugged once again. "I said usually, every once in a while something or another will set him off, make him angry, or scare him. When that happens he goes and sits on the staircase. He's also kind of hard to communicate with, no one knows why though."

  
  


"Thank you," Nancy said.

  
  


"No problem at all," the guard said waving as Nancy set off down the trail.

  
  


She was greeted by Frank who was running up. "Nancy!" he panted, "Joe fell, I think he's hurt!"

  
  
  
  



	6. Chapter Six

The Courier of Marseilles

Lord Dreadnault

  
  


Chapter Six: The Abbey

  
  
  
  
  
  


Frank and Nancy rushed down the trail to see how badly Joe was hurt. They found Jean and Felicia attending to his ankle. Joe saw them coming. "I think it's broken or the next thing to it," he told them.

  
  


"Severely sprained I think," Jean said. "With a little rest, and maybe soaking it in hot water you'll be fine."

  
  


Felicia nodded in agreement. "Yes, rest should do it." She and Jean turned their attention back to Joe. They were trying to splint up the ankle so that Joe would be able to make it down the mountainside. 

  
  


"How did he fall?" Nancy asked Frank quietly so that Jean and Felicia could not hear.

  
  


"Felicia offhandedly mentioned that some of those ancient tombs were just over those rocks," Frank said gesturing towards some big rocks and rubble on the side of the trail. "We went to climb up to see if we could see them and Joe fell."

  
  


Nancy nodded. "I see. Which rock did he fall off of?" 

  
  


"That one," Frank replied pointing to a medium sized one."

  
  


The pair walked over towards the rocks to take a look at them. Nancy reached out her hand and touched the rock that Frank had pointed to. She brought it back up and showed Frank. "Grease," she said. 

  
  


Frank looked at Jean and Felicia as they were helping Joe. "Looks like someone wanted us out of the way, and I have a fairly good idea who it was."

  
  


"I agree," Nancy said. "Let's just keep low though and not let them think that we suspect them."

  
  


Frank nodded. "We'll just have to be extra careful for now."

  
  


* * * * * * *

  
  


Joe stood in the house and watched Frank, Nancy, Felicia, and Jean leave for the Abbey. They had paid a visit to the hospital the night before and the doctor had instructed Joe to take it easy for at least a couple of days. Now he was stuck on the bench while Frank and Nancy did the real investigating. 

  
  


Joe limped up the stairs to the library deciding to take another look at the clues they had studied the other day. He limped over to the desk and picked up one of the papers that the message had been printed on and read it again.

  
  


TO THE CIA

I HAVE SECURED AWAY THE LAST OF THE ITEMS IN THE HIDING PLACE-

LIKE EDWARD V OF ENGLAND- || I HAVE BURIED IT IN A SECRET PLACE-

I HAVE LEFT MANY CLUES AS TO WHERE THE HIDING PLACE IS THAT FEW WILL RECOGNIZE OR UNDERSTAND-

THIS IS MY LAST CLUE-

I FEAR THAT THEY COME FOR ME-

THIS CLUE WILL LEAD YOU TO THE CACHE SHOULD THE GUARDIAN I HAVE LEFT TAKE THE SECRET TO THE GRAVE-

IT IS NON-ACCESSIBLE (CONVENIENTLY) EXCEPT FOR HIM-

FOR NONE REMEMBER

BOSWELL

  
  


Joe's attention was drawn to the strange line with the mark in the middle. Like Edward V of England- I have buried it in a secret place-

  
  


Did Edward V ever bury a secret treasure? Joe mused. He had never heard over Edward V, he must not have been the king of England long, or at least had not been very famous. Joe read the sentence again. Like Edward V of England- I have buried it in secret place-

  
  


What did the mark mean? Joe couldn't fathom it out. He continued to study the line. It was in that line that the secret to the cache was hidden. Suddenly it hit Joe. What if he reversed the two lines that made one line.

  
  


I HAVE BURIED IT IN A SECRET PLACE- LIKE EDWARD V OF ENGLAND-

  
  


Where had Edward V been buried, Joe asked himself excitedly. He quickly got up. I need to find a library, fast!

  
  


* * * * * * * 

  
  


Frank and Nancy left the Abbey after a long and tedious tour. There had been nothing to suggest the cache had been buried there, let alone that Boswell had ever come here. Everything was straightforward and in no way was it abandoned.

  
  


"Well?" Frank asked.

  
  


Nancy shrugged. "I don't know. That just doesn't seem like the place to hide a secret cache."

  
  


"I don't think so either," Frank said. "Say, Nancy, I forgot to ask you. Why did you stay behind last night at the guard house?"

  
  


"I just wanted to ask the guard how long that Claude guy had been around and what the guard knew." Nancy replied.

  
  


"What if he knows what we're looking for?" Frank suggested. "He was carving something wasn't he?"

  
  


Nancy thought for a moment and remembered Claude carving on the staircase. "I think you're right Frank. . . Oh, I've been such a fool. He was right under our noses!"

  
  


"I wouldn't worry about it Nancy. It was just a thought." Frank said comfortingly. "He was probably too young to be around then."

  
  


"We still need to go and try," Nancy said.

  
  


Frank glanced at his watch. "Well it's too late now. The fort is probably closed by now."

  
  


Nancy sighed. "All right, but we go tomorrow, first thing!"

  
  


* * * * * * *

  
  


Joe quickly thumbed through the old book he had found in the Marseilles Library. It wasn't on Edward V, he hadn't been able to find one about him. It was on Edward's uncle. Richard III. The book had references about Edward V. 

  
  


From what Joe had seen in the book he deduced that Edward and his brother had been murdered and their bodies hidden. Where had the bodies been put though? Joe strongly suspected that the key to the hiding place was the last resting place of Edward V. The only problem was that no one seemed to know or mention it.

  
  


Joe sighed as the clock chimed the library's closing time. Maybe tomorrow.

  
  


* * * * * * *

  
  


Nancy tossed and turned in her sleep that night. She couldn't sleep. All she could think about was finding Claude tomorrow. Why had she been so stupid? She should have asked more questions or had seen the obvious clue.

  
  


Finally she fell asleep. 

  
  


She dreamed of the staircase. On it sat a small boy of seven or eight, he slowly, carefully, and quietly carved a figurine. The same figurine that sat in the library. 


	7. Chapter Seven

The Courier of Marseilles

Lord Dreadnault

A/N: The cheapskate has returned! :P 

Chapter Seven: The Man Who Never Forgot A Face

  
  


Nancy woke up early the next morning already pumped up and ready to go. Getting out of bed she slipped on a bathrobe, opened the door, and walked down the hall to Frank and Joe's door. She knocked. "Let's get up guys! We need to get to Fort de Buoux!"

  
  


"It's five-thirty!" came Joe's muffled exclamation. "I'm not even going with you two." 

  
  


Nancy sighed and walked in. Joe was sitting up and rubbing his eyes while Frank had a pillow over his head. "You're going to the library," Nancy replied in an annoyed voice. "You need to get up early enough so that you have plenty of time to find out where your Edward V was buried, and don't give me junk about not being able to find it in the books. If you look hard enough you're bound to find something."

  
  


"All right, Nancy," came Frank's voice. It wasn't exactly annoyed but you could tell that he wasn't exactly a morning person. "We'll be right up." He pushed back the covers, got out of bed and proceeded to fumble around for his bathroom supplies.

  
  


"Good!" Nancy said in a pleased voice. She left their room shutting the door behind her. Returning quickly to her room, Nancy quickly took a shower and was finished eating a quick breakfast of cereal as Frank and Joe arrived in the kitchen.

  
  


"Just give us five minutes or so," Frank yawned, "and we'll be ready to go with you." They sat down and under Nancy's intense gaze quickly ate their cereal which Nancy had already laid out.

  
  


In what seemed like no time at all Frank and Nancy found themselves walking up the narrow and steep path towards the Fort. "Do you think there might be something in those ancient burial grounds? Frank asked. "If Joe is right, maybe the cache is buried with someone or disguised as a burial."

  
  


"Was Edward V buried in France?" Nancy asked, already knowing the answer. "Claude is the key! He was right in front of me and we overlooked him. I had a dream last night! In it was this little boy carving that same figurine that is one of the clues. He was sitting on that staircase carving just like we saw him. During World War II, Claude would have been a boy that old."

  
  


"It doesn't seem like good detective work to base everything on a dream," Frank pointed out as they passed the rock on which Joe had 'conveniently' slipped on their first visit. "I think that you've just kind of gotten set on this Claude guy a little too much.

  
  


"We'll see who is right when we get to Claude then," Nancy announced. "I'll be that we go right up to him and he might be able to tell us exactly where the cache is!"

*

  
  


Grumbling, Joe exited the house and limped down the street to where he could catch the next bus to the local library. As he slowly walked his mind swirled with facts and possibilities. Where was the cache? Footsteps seemed to sound behind him. Joe whirled around quickly to see who was out on the street at this hour. There was no one in sight.

  
  


Frowning he turned around and continued to walk. The footsteps continued, or maybe it was his imagination. Every time he turned around there was no one in sight. With relief he finally arrived at the bus stop just as the bus arrived. 

  
  


The ride to the library was even more tedious. Almost every single face on the bus seemed familiar to him. What was going on?

*

  
  


Frank and Nancy were the first tourists of the day to arrive at the small gate-house. "Early birds," the gate guard commented. A different one this time. They paid their admission and Nancy dragged Frank towards the fort in which the spiral staircase that had been in her dream was. They arrived, but there was no Claude. 

  
  


"Where is he?" Frank asked.

  
  


Nancy shrugged, "The gate guard the other day could have sworn that Claude spent all of his time here."

  
  


"Maybe this guard will know something." Frank suggested.

  
  


The pair made their way back to the gate booth to question the guard. "There's a recluse who spends a lot of time here isn't there?" Nancy asked. "Wasn't his name Claude?"

  
  


The guard scratched his head, "You mean that he isn't on the staircase?"

  
  


Nancy nodded, "Precisely, where is he?"

  
  


"I couldn't say," the guard answered in a sociable voice. "Sometimes he disappears for a while and then he comes back. You know, he was around during the war. I'm quite the war buff myself. They say that his parents were spies and all that. This is one of the places in which they spent a whole lot of time."

  
  


Nancy cut in before the guard could go on, "What would make him disappear? Do you have any idea?"

  
  


"I don't know for sure," the guard replied as he stepped in the booth to grab a take-out foam cup of coffee. "The other guards and I have a theory though."

  
  


"What is it?" Frank asked. He was now interested in Claude as well. This had all sparked his interest.

  
  


"Well you see, when Claude was a young boy he could usually get around without making a whole lot of noise. That and the fact that he was small and considered insignificant due to his you know, mental problems. Anyway, they say that Claude used to be a guard, sort of a sentry who could raise the alarm or something."

  
  


"He couldn't even defend himself at that age!" Nancy exclaimed. "Why would they make him a guard?"

  
  


"Well, not like a fighting the guard," the guard explained. "More like a watcher who could warn."

  
  


"Why was that needed?" Frank asked.

  
  


"Sometimes spies would defect to the Germans, you know, give up. These people were of course very valuable to the Germans. They knew all of the codes and signals and could pose as double agents if they were disguised."

  
  


"What about it?" Nancy said.

  
  


"Claude's parents were so influential that they had seen or had run across every single spy. Their son was never far from them so he saw them too. So, they would tell him who the traitors were and set him to watch everyone who came in. They did this because Claude never forgot a face. Not only that, age, surgery, and disguises never fooled Claude either. No traitor ever made it past Claude's watch no matter how well he or she was disguised."

  
  


"So what's your theory?" Frank inquired.

  
  


"You know, some of those people could still be around. They might come here as tourists to visit their old hideout for sentimental reasons. Even the traitors. As I said, age couldn't fool Claude. The other guards and I think that Claude hides when he sees one of those traitors on his mental list. There's no one to tell now, so all he can do is hide until they're far away." The guard explained.

*

  
  


Joe excitedly slammed the book shut. "It's been in front of us all along," he marveled to himself. He quickly scanned the bookshelves and tables around him before standing up. He grabbed all of the books he had been studying and placed them onto a shelving cart for the librarians. He grabbed his study materials and limped out of the library to catch the next bus back to where he was staying. 

  
  


He found himself back at the house a half-hour later. Frank and Nancy were pacing in the library when he joined them. Before he could even speak Nancy burst out, "We were so close Joe! As long as anyone is searching we'll never be able to contact Claude."

  
  


Joe grinned, "Forget him! I know where the cache is."

  
  


"How!" both Frank and Nancy exclaimed. 

  
  


Joe casually limped over to a chair and sat down carefully, "Well, it was elementary my dear Watson."

  
  


"Cut it Joe! What did you find? Do you know where Edward V was buried?" Frank pressed him.

  
  


Joe nodded importantly, "Why yes I do. Both Edward V and his brother were murdered by Henry VII after he took the throne. Henry kindly blamed the former king that he has deposed, Richard III. Researchers have only just figured that part out. Anyway, they were renovating the Tower of London and they found the two bodies. Only skeletons actually, but it was them."

  
  


"WHERE!" Nancy yelled in frustration.

  
  


"Under a staircase."

  
  
  
  



End file.
